Infamous Portal
by WelshScot
Summary: This is a story idea I had years ago. I'm posting it to see if people like it or not. All you need to know is that we never found out Chell's last name...


_R/L/A/N: Hello, this is Welshscot. I am posting this because I want to see if people like it and because I am having writers block. I wrote it ages ago and I had almost forgotten about it. I must thank Big Sister K who betaed it and if she reads this I apologies for not messaging you. Also note the following A/N has an OC called Welshscot. His character has changed since this...and I don't see the point in mentioning this. _

_Anyway, enjoy :)_

_**The sound of crashing could be heard from my room, as I slaved tirelessly on cleaning the tip that is my room. During my many months absence, the room where I wrote chapters and scripts for stories had become a pig sty. I have gotten rid of all the spiders and the major clumps of dust bunnies, but my bed has also fallen into disrepair and had decided to collapse.**_

_**Cursing my luck, I (Welshscot) stomped the dusty mattress; for it had destroyed the base of my bed. While the Scot in me moaned about how much a new bed would cost, the Welsh decided that I need a break. I sat down at my desk, the chair sagging a little as I sit on it, and began casting my mind to my duties as an author; not a caretaker.**_

_**My eyes slid past my laptop, which was nicknamed 'the Script', and only stopped when they spied a white, metal gun; adjacent to the computer. I smiled as I leaned over to the Portal Gun, my hands gently sliding around the trigger end and lifting it for examination.**_

_**As my eyes gazed at the quantum hole device, my mind slipped back to the time where I had spent during my writer's block period; where I had bounced around from place to place in an attempt to find the way to break my damn block on 'The Chance at a Promise'. **_

_***Few months ago, Aperture science enrichment centre***_

"_**Crap!" I hurled myself to one-side; just as a weighted cube narrowly missed my head. As I landed on the hard, metal floor; the cube flew towards the blue portal I had set up, and was now flying at a red, push once button on a wall far from where I was standing. As I got to my feet, the exit door in front of me pinged and opened. Wasting no time, I hurled myself at the door; just as another cube went flying towards me. This was due to the centre's new device: The cube cannon.**_

_**I had mentioned my writers block to the reception committee (two robots named, Atlas and P-body) and now they were tasked with helping me with writer block curing tests. 'Helping' by manning the cube cannon and reloading it; P-body at the trigger while Atlas slotted in the new cubes. **_

_**So far, the tests include me breaking cubes, dodging cubes and (for some strange reason) turning cubes into spheres. The last one was stopped when I stated that the definition of a 'block' is an object that impedes a person's path. **_

_**I walked past the lift that will take me to the next test and to the desk and laptop that was situated at the back of the room. I slumped down on the hard, metal chair and began gazing, fruitlessly, at the monitor; which I had rigged the screen saver to read: (I DON'T OWN PORTAL). **_

_**After staring for a few more seconds at the blank screen monitor, a female, robotic voice said. "Well, test subject [Welshscot], are you not going to write something? There are no sheep on the monitor, I promise you."**_

_**Ignoring that last stereotypical insult, I turned my head towards the camera and replied, in a cool, bored tone, "Ha-ha, GLaDOS. Very original, and no I'm not going to write anything; my mind is still blank and my body is still sore from having cubes launched at it."**_

"_**Well you said you needed to find a way to break your writer's block." Sound GLaDOS's smug response. "It's just unfortunate that you're the exact opposite of our best test subject. She was smart, you are dumb. She was American, you are a hybrid. She was plump; you are the embodiment of a toothpick." **_

_**I clenched my fist and gnarled my teeth, anger boiling inside me. "You know..." I finally said, my voice level but peppery. "...You talk about this 'test subject' but don't say her name. I'm starting to wonder what's the 'prized tester's' name?"**_

"_**...I do not like pronouncing her name." The AI replied; her robotic voice was laced with a hidden sign of bitterness to it. "She and I have a...troubled history." **_

_**Not at all discouraged from my pursuit, I suggested, "Then send her file to my computer...Unless you can't send one measly, little file to a measly, little computer?" I gave a sly smile as I finished, knowing all that stood in my way was the downloading speed of my hard-drive.**_

_**Sure enough, my screen saver vanished and a 'You have email' message pinged on the monitor. I quickly found the file and began to peruse the contents; beginning with age, address and...**_

_**I stopped, staring at a line of the file; completely transfixed by the short sentence. My eyes were disbelieving, my heart was pounding and my brain was alive with action; the cogs of my imagination began turning once again. But instead of turning to the original train of thought, the prime idea, my cogs began to ricocheting off the walls of my skull; bouncing back and forth until they landed on one word...**_

"_**SPACE!" GLaDOS's camera seemed to whirl as the sound of my voice shook the wall of the Enrichment Centre. She observed, with minor disbelief, as my fingers began to dance across the key board; Microsoft Word open on the screen. She was still staring as I pressed the full-stop key for the last time, and as I sprang from my chair with Portal Gun in hand.**_

"_**I take it..." She stated, as I stepped into the lift to the next test, "That you have begun writing, 'A Chance at the Promise'?"**_

"_**Of a Promise," I corrected; my voice filled with a happy sense of purpose. "No, I haven't begun that yet; still wandering if Naruto should be embarrassed or not when he goes to see Hinata!"**_

"_**Then why are you so happy? What were you doing on there for the past half hour?" **_

"_**Bouncing," I answered, as my face began to sink below the floor (as the lift carried me down), "Good old fashioned bouncing!" And before the AI could as anymore, I was already half-way to my next test. GLaDOS's camera's lense seemed to blink for a second, before it began to zoom to the computer screen. And this is what the super AI read... **_

InFamous: Wrong time, Wrong arm

_Activation...six plus minutes..._

_...Pulse is forty five..._

_...His arm...that wasn't supposed to happen..._

In Empire City, in its Historic district, an explosion accrued. It was random, unpredictable, and completely devastating. The moment it happened every transformer, car, hell even the phones went dead as their electricity was drained from their batteries. Thousands were vaporised in the main blast, along with some buildings and cars, and thousands more were injured or killed as the chaos it brought spread through the city like a plague.

How it'd happen was a mystery. Some people were saying that terrorists were behind it. Some are saying it's a massive gas leak. Some are even saying it's a meteorite; as right before the blast, a small, blue dot had appeared in the night sky. Scientists, from the safety of their labs, say that it was a meteor heading straight for Empire city. People didn't believe at first...now this happened.

But despite the chaos the bomb, or the meteor, brought; one life had been spared. For in the middle of the crater, which either the bomb or the meteor had made, a man was still alive; lying face down and was badly scarred and wounded, but alive none the less.

His skin bore burns on every surface and his clothes were ragged and torn. Cole McGrath woke up; his head dizzy and his body aching like it had been run-over by a train. His arm, however, was not painfully aching. In fact, it wasn't giving off any sign of felling at all. When Cold tried to push him-self up off the ground, only one arm did as he asked. As he got to his feet, he looked down at where his right arm should be; and even before his eyes laid where they wanted to be; his stomach did a triple flip.

His arm was as burnt and scarred as the rest of his body; only problem was that it was fifteen feet away from its socket. Cole was soon on the ground again, freaked out of his mind and all that. I mean, have you ever woken up in a charred crater with your arm somewhere on the other side before?

Well if you have, you would have freaked out; just like Cole did. He didn't scream, yell or any of that kind of thing; heavy breathing and near heart-attacks was his way of freaking out. During this turbulent time of sharp breaths; Cole examined his stump with both wonder and horror.

The socket, where his arm must have blown off from, had been cauterised; meaning that someone had been here a few minutes ago and had managed to stop him from bleeding out. Now this was nothing to be either horrified or intrigued; his arm being gone was actually quite sickening. What Cole was in wonder about, was that there was something infused into the middle of the charred stump.

It was a circular lense, which was made of some-kind of white steel that had a light blue optic infused in its centre. Around the small 'lense' were stands of...wires, shards of white metal? And they were all surrounding the lense, immobile and lifeless. As Cole continued to stare, he swore he saw the lense...blink.

He was brought out of his observations by the sound of a voice, broadcasting over a loud speaker: "**There's someone alive down their!** **Hey! Wave if you can hear me!"**

Cole looked up, from his lying down position on the ground, to see a black helicopter; hovering by a ruined car lot. Cole, using his left (and only) arm, did as was asked.

With conformation that Cole was indeed alive, and that the speaker wouldn't be wasting his breath on a lifeless corpse, it instructed: **"Well, if you can walk, get out of there! Head for the bridge; this whole place is coming down!" **A sudden crash of falling rubble drew the attention of the chopper to another car lot that was a few yards away from the crater. The chopper turned towards the noise, which was the said car lot's third level falling down to join the second level, and had seemed to have spotted another survivor. **"Hey! You in the garage! Get the hell out of there! Whole lot's coming down!"**

Cole, deciding to follow the chopper's advice, murmured: "C'mon, Cole, move." He pushed him-self up, his only arm the main force of propelling movement while his feet almost slipped on the ash covered ground. When his body was up-right; he spied a strip of concrete that was not charred and burning. It made a small, narrow pathway to the car lot, the one that was barely standing and intact.

Cole took his first step, which was rewarded with a few cm of distance and a sharp message of pain from his foot. He cringed, his body frozen by this brief touch of pain. "Move," muttered Cole, as he took another painful step; "Move!"

Despite the feeling of immense pain; Cole began to make his way, slowly, towards the decrepit car lot and to his only chance at survival. As his scarred feet touched back down upon the beaten pathway; a couple of trashed cars, which were strewn around the crater and pathway, began to blow up in unison. This happened every time Cole staggered past them, till he reached a part of the walkway that was cut off from the rest of the path by a straight line of charred tar, which had come from the melted road that had run by the corner block; the block that was now situated in the middle of the crater.

Luckily, a piece scaffolding had been blown out of a building's structure and had landed in the melting tar; which resulted in it sticking out of said tar and made a bridge to the safe, un-charred walkway. Only problem was that a person would have to jump to get on it. Cole was not worried about jumping, for he was an urban explorer since about four years ago, he was worried about if he fell off. He was use to grabbing a ledge to prevent him-self from falling; just not use to doing it with one hand.

Stealing himself, Cole leapt into the air. As he jumped, he noticed that he had jumped higher than usual. He also noticed he had jumped longer than usual; as his feet landed miles from his original target and about a cm away from the edge, his toes hanging dangerously over the edge.

Cole managed to keep his cool, and balance, as he managed to back away from the edge of the scaffolding and continue on his way. As he was about to leap off the scaffolding and back onto the concrete walkway; the sound of his phone bleeping almost made him miss-judge his jump, landing as dangerously as before with his toes over the edge; the soles of his feet almost kissing the burring, black liquid.

Both cursing the caller's timing and hoping that the caller is who he think he is; Cole reached, with his left arm, to press his phone; which was being held on his rucksack strap. Now the problem that accrued had nothing to do with him using his left arm, for Cole was double handed, but that his phone was not on his tattered strap holder.

_Ah, great, _thought Cole as he looked around for his phone, which was still ringing. _Of all the things that decided to bugger off, it had to be my phone. All I want to do is answer it, and... _The moment he thought 'answer'; the ringing stopped and the Texan voice of his sun glassed friend, Zeke Dunbar, rang in his ear-drums.

"Cole," he yelled in urgent earnest. "Cole! Answer me man!"

Cole, putting aside the mystery of his phone doing a Houdini, replied: "Zeke? What the hell is going on? I think there was an explosion..."

"No shit there was an explosion!" Cole cringed as Zeke's voice seemed to emit right next to his ear drum, almost causing him to fall head first into the fiery sea of tar. After the near death experience, for the third and hopefully final time, Cole began making his way to the crumbling car lot; all the while listening to his friend talk on.

"TV is all in up roar; one channel says that terrorists are blowing shit up while another channel says that a meteorite had hit us hard and loud. What happened, Cole? You were closer to where that thing went of...or came down."

"I don't know..." Cole scratched his head, while his feet stopped right at the entrance of the car lot. "...It's all a blur..." A thought struck him. "Zeke, where's Trish?! Is she ok, is she hurt?!"

"Calm down, brother," reassured Zeke. "Trish is with me, I was visiting the hospital..." He stopped for a second, then changed the subject: "Listen, now's not the time to talk. Meet us at the Fremont Bridge. Once your there, we'll find a place to bunker down."

"Alright," agreed the wounded man; who began to continue on his way, with a goal now set in mind. "I'll meet you guys there. And Zeke; take care of Trish for me, will you?"

"Don't worry 'bout a thing; just get your ass over here." With that note, Zeke hung up. Cole still didn't understand how his phone had work while it wasn't in sight; but that mystery was replaced by an even bigger, and more frightening, one.

As Cole entered the lot, by going up the partially destroyed entrance road, he was greeted by a shock; literally. An electrical appliance box, which was miraculously still powered, had a loose cable by its side. The cable was active, sparks flying and dancing around the exposed end of wiring, and when Cole was about a couple of lengths away from it; the electricity shot out from the cable and at Cole's exposed and scarred chest.

Cole's head was thrown back by the force of the electricity; which was coursing through every part of his body. Cole did not yelp or cry out in pain; for pain was the wrong word to describe the sensation that was now running through his body. It was more like...power, or heat, or energy? For whatever this feeling was, it was not pain. And as it died down, the feeling seemed to either head, or stop, in the region where his newly made stump resided.

When the feeling had completely vanished, Cole quickly examined him-self. Not only was he not dead, for he was sure that about a thousand volts had just ridden through his body like a roller coaster, but some of the scars and burns had either vanished or had begun to heal up.

"What the hell..." he muttered, now examining his arm; which now looked almost unblemished. "...I should be-FUCK!" He jumped in total fright, almost landing on the live cable. While safe from the danger of another shock, an actual shock, Cole was scared as hell; for he had taken a look at his stump.

The stump was no longer there; instead, a bicep, made completely out of white steel and large, black wiring, was now attached to the once armless socket. The bicep, or hunk of metal, spanned from the socket to the place where his elbow had been on his last arm. From the point where it ended; strands of black wire and metal were sticking out of the end. Also the blue optic, which had been implanted in the stump, was now, by the looks of it, the elbow joint.

_What, in the name of fucking God, is this?! _As Cole examined the white metal, a memory struck him. _Wait...this metal is like that... _He then suddenly reached back, with his left arm, to feel the contents of his rucksack; which he now noticed was lighter than before he black out.

_Strange, _he thought; as his fingers felt not what he was seeking. _It's not there. Still, this...arm, _he took a glance at the half complete arm: _it looks like it's made of that gun-like thing that mum sent me this morning. The thing she said...no wrote, that would explain why she had vanished nine years ago... _

He was cut off from his thoughts, by a car that had fallen through the ceiling and had crashed not too far away from the confused Cole. Deciding that this question was for another day; Cole began to make his way to the bridge.

He tried, for some strange reason, to head up a level. That idea came crashing down, along with a car which brought down the floor around the way up to the next level. Cole was not hampered, for there was a half broken pie; each end stuck out across the chasm that separated the other side of the lot to the next.

It was easy to clamber on and leap across; even though the distracting influence of falling rubble was all around the scarred man as a pillar decided to collapse. When he got to the other side, Cole continued to walk on; and as he turned around a corner, he was in for another, literal, shock.

This shock came from another exposed cable; and another, unexplainable feeling rushed through his body again. Like last time his head was thrown back by the pure force of the feeling. But unlike last time; the lightning strands, which were now clinging and dancing around his skin, turned sea blue on his right hand side and light orange on the other. With the change of colour, the electricity changed to. It no longer sparked or danced. Instead, it hummed and shone; like a brightly coloured UV light or the orange glow of a sun-bed.

This new...light... then began to surge into other electrical appliances; like cars and scattered road side lights that littered a large empty space of the lot's concrete floor. As the blue and orange light met the electricity, the electricity gave way and went either lighter blue or completely orange.

As this strange light enveloped or entered the car's and road light's batteries; they began to crush in on themselves. The car's roof and bonnet were now scrunching together, all towards the gravitational centre of the car. Before the car could fully compact into a small ball, the car's engine was added to the effect; causing the pressure to be released into a small explosion.

The blast caused the floor, which had held the car and the road lights, to collapse; forming a small, walk-able slop down to ground level and the Fremont Bridge; to safety.

Cole, who had long since recovered from his power surge, had watched this display with scarred awe. After a few seconds of staring down the newly formed path; he gave in to the urge to look at his right-arm; which now had, as impossible as it must be, feeling.

What he saw did not made him jump; only confused and gobsmacked. His...'arm', was now complete; white steel now spanned from the shoulder to the tips of his new fingers. The wires now formed one big, black cable; which was visible at the parts where his metal arm's design dictated that two plates were need. These places were like where his bicep, fore-arm muscle and wrist used to be on his former, real arm that was now probably smouldering in the crater he had awoken in. The blue optic was no longer on his elbow joint; yet a circular, closed lense still remained in its place.

Cole stared at his new 'arm'; half whishing, half hoping, that this was all a dream; for all this seemed to belong in a game. "What is happening to me?" Cole wondered aloud, his mind considering the possibility that this was all real. Soon, however, he abandoned this inquiry, on the pretext that if, if this was real, then Trish and Zeke were still waiting for him. They were still in harm's way.

He went down the slop; his feet (which were only hurting slightly) were firm on the ash covered concrete as he took each step. Once down, he proceeded to the bridge; which was in plain, and battered, view. There were police cars sitting around the entrance; an armed cop by everyone. An ambulance was not far away; a medic was far though; treating a wounded man with a burn covering his face. The first job of many, as several more wounded seemed to crop us as Cole came closer to the Bride.

As Cole walked by the police cars, and their armed driver's, he saw a familiar sight. The yellow sunglasses of Zeke Dunbar, Cole's best friend for life, were shining in the light of the chaos. The moment their eyes met, Zeke was yelling: "Cole! Over here, man! We go-Jesus Christ!" His eyes had noticed Cole's new, metal arm. "What in the name of sweet chicken liver is that, Cole!?"

Cole decided that shouting that he had lost his arm, and then re-grown said arm for a metal counterpart, was not a good idea; especially with wide eyed cops who were on the lookout for supposed terrorists. Sure, saying that I can grow metallic limbs is defiantly not going to freak out the already trigger happy cops.

So Cole began to make his way to Zeke, before the cops began to notice his new, silver limb. This plan, however, was stopped dead; or would be if Cole hadn't already survived the previous 'shocks'. For the bridge's over head power cables, which linked the main grid in the Neon District to this District, had already been sparking, on both sides, and Cole had just walked in-between them.

"GOD, NO!" He cried as his head was thrown back; the feeling he had felt before, the feeling of power, was coursing through him again. The lightning strands did not even appear on Cole's body. This time, the duo lights, one of sea blue and one of light orange, were enveloping his body; mainly his arms. While blue enveloped Cole's right arm, orange snaked round his left. Also this time, the 'lights' did not feed back into other objects. But the effect was much more devastating.

The cops, freighted by the display of lights, aimed their pistols directly at the 'shining man'. The medic, who had finished his first case and had moved onto the next, was also frightened. So frightened was the medic that he did a little jump. His feet left the ground, his body a cm above said ground, and they kept off the ground; still about a cm in the air. The medic's shocked eyes widened even more at this anomaly; as he went up, and up, and up into the air. His screams could not be heard; for if light could not escape a black hole, what chance has sound?

Truthfully though, the hole was not black; it was a mixture of blue and orange. And not all sound was sucked up in to it; only the sound that was about 10 meters away from the swirling hole. Cole could still hear his breathing and Zeke was audible when he said: "Oh no! It's the terrorists! Run, Cole, run!"

Cole did run, his arms still glowing brightly, as everything on the bridge began moving towards the black/blue/orange hole. The civilian's and cop's mouths were open in drawn out screams; yet not a single sound could be heard. Not even the crashing of the cars as the bumped into each other; not even the ambulance siren, which was still working; and not even the squelching of flesh being crushed as the bodies were meshed together with metal.

Cole was now beginning to stumble, his vision blurred and his hearing deafened, as he made his way over the broken and crumbling bridge; almost falling down a hole the lay left of the main support beam that ran through the bridge's middle. As he made it to the end of the bridge; Cole finally gave in to his tiredness. He collapsed head first onto the ground. As he drifted into un-consciousness, he heard a garbled version of Trish's voice, saying his name in pure worry.

Even though his mind had retreated deep within him; Cole could still hear things...horrible things...

He heard men, women and children; all screaming as they either perished in the fires or were crushed by the falling buildings. He heard their screams, their death screams, over and over again; a constant barrage of shrieks and cries; again and again –endlessly screaming...

Cole opened his eyes, the screaming in his head had finally ceased. The first thing he noticed was that he was in a hospital bed, bandaged up and hooked up with an IV bag. The room he was in was familiar; this blue painted, blank room was like all the rooms in Trish's hospital.

Speaking off Trish, she had her back facing towards Cole; peering at a photo she had in her hand. For a moment, Cole said nothing; until he saw a tear land on the photo that Trish was holding.

"Hey," said Cole, in his gruff voice; which sounded a bit more horse due to lack of use. "What's with the tears, Trish?"

She whipped round, her face tear strewn due to the obvious amount of crying she must have been doing. As fast as she turned, she was now by his side; giving him a huge hug. "Oh, Cole..."

Said Cole's face was now blue; his lungs being crushed by Trish. He tired to speak, didn't go so well (only a garbled sound escaped his lips), and so he tried to use his only free arm to make his discomfort known...his metal right arm.

All the memoires of after he woke up, from what seemed to have been an explosion, came back to him; especially the part where he woke up with his arm blown off...and it growing back with a metal counterpart.

Cole may have yelled, yelped or yowled in shock; if his chest wasn't being crushed by Trish's arms. However, when she looked up at his face, she saw where his eyes were staring and the look of horror and lack of oxygen that resided on Cole's face. She released him from her hug (of death) and apologized; "Oh, sorry! Cole, I..."

She looked down at her hand, the one with the photo in it (the photo showing Trish's sister, Amy: as Cole soon noticed and recognized). "I'm just glad," she muttered, another tear falling from her eye onto the photograph; "That you're alive...I couldn't have lost you as well..."

Cole, even though he began to notice how groggy he felt, managed to place two and two together. He bit his lip and put his forehead into his non-metal palm, while he felt his stomach churn. Amy had been a bit of a bitch when Trish first introduced them; commenting on why her sister was hanging out with a cheap, redneck bike courier.

Cole took no notice of her, till she started talking about my 'retarded mom'. He snapped, told her to shut her mouth; when she didn't, Cole gave her black-eye. Hitting girls is something he doesn't usually do; but dogs are an exception in his book.

He and Trish almost fell out because of this; she not knowing what Amy said about his mom. Luckily, it seemed Cole managed to knock some manner into Amy. She told Trish about what she said and apologized to him about calling his mom a 'stupid, mute spastic'.

She was a nicer person after that; Cole even started to consider her a friend. So Cole was also, maybe just as, upset about her death, remembering not her bitchy days but the ones were she gently teased Trish and him about when they get married and the free parties she used to throw.

Cole soon managed to pull him-self together, raising his head from out of his palm and fixing a concerned gaze back at his girlfriend; who was still crying, silently. "Trish," whispered Cole, as softly as he could; "It's all right, I'm still here."

She looked up at him, her eyes slightly red and puffy. She nodded, slowly, and began to wipe the tears of her face. "I told you he'd make it through."

Cole turned his head around, sharply, to see the face of his Elvis impersonating friend: Zeke Dunbar. He must have been sitting by Cole's bed, on a plain wooden chair, since the moment Cole had been placed in it; the beer bottles and out of date newspaper suggested as much. Unlike the real Elvis, Zeke had brown hair; although, he still had yellow plastic shades that looked like the ones the King once wore in his life time. Also like Elvis, but not as much, Zeke was quite plump; though Cole would never say it to his face.

At the moment, Zeke was on his feet; his face showing a confidant expression. "I told her not to be worried; you always come through stuff like this." His voice gave the final proof that he had been indeed confidant on Cole's survival, something that Cole was glad about. It was nice to see that Trish cared about him, but he didn't want her to worry all the time and think he couldn't handle himself.

"I know, Zeke," replied Trish, her face now tear-free and her voice was now steady; "But after what happened to Amy...and—that." She pointed at Cole's white, metallic arm; something that had slipped from Cole's mind for a short-while. Now Cole was back to asking a single, mysterious question: How the hell did his arm grow back, (in shape, not flesh).

Zeke looked at Cole's new limb and replied, in a stumped wonder; "Well, to be honest, I was kinda wondering that myself." He raised his gaze from metal to flesh, from limb to face, and asked; "So, what happened, Cole?"

Said Cole had been looking at his right arm, flexing his new, slim metal fingers and thumb, and did not answer immediately. Finally, after testing out his right wrist, he said, in a quiet, yet carrying, whisper: "I don't really know, Zeke. One minute I was delivering a package; next, I'm waking up in a crater with my arm blown off."

Zeke softly swore, while Trish gasped; "You arm was blown off!?"

Cole nodded, remembering how shocked he was when he realised what had happened. "Yeah..." He decided to continue on, for he didn't want Trish to start fussing over him. "Anyway, I managed to get out of the crater; Zeke gave me a call..."

He was about to tell them the mystery of how he managed to answer his phone, when it was nowhere in sight, when he was interrupted by a noise. He gazed around at the hospital room, which was very small and had no other bed, and asked; "Hey, is there some guy next door or something?"

Trish frowned at her boyfriend, as she gave him a startled reply; "Err...no there isn't, Cole. There's no one else in the hospital. There all at home...or..." She gave a scarred glance at the only window in the room; which was completely boarded up.

Cole didn't notice this, so he gave his two friends the reason for his strange and random question; "Well, I could have sworn I hear someone snoring—"

He stopped, his eyes squinting in concentration. For Cole had the noise again, the unmistakable sound of a male snoring. Zeke and Trish appeared to have heard it to as they began turning their heads, trying to find the source of the snoring.

Cole soon managed to follow his ears with his eyes, the latter now eyeing at the place where the former had told the eyes: 'it's coming from there, believe it or not'. Why the suggestion of doubt, I hear? Well, apparently, the sound was coming from Cole's right-hand-side; precisely, the metal palm of Cole's right hand. As took in his palm, he noticed that there was a circular, closed lense piece, like the one that served as an elbow-joint on his arm.

Cole raised his steel hand to his face, thinking; _Ok...why is my...'arm' making snoring sounds..._

He was stopped in mid-thought; for it turns out it was not only the sound of snoring that his arm could produce. For a yawn, a fully, sleepy yawn emitted from Cole's palm lense; followed by British accented voice, saying; "*Yawn* Oh...Just what I needed, a quick rest. Did I need a rest? Do I need to sleep? Well, I'm an AI...so...technically, I don't need to sleep. Still, it was nice, to sleep..."

Cole glanced from his hand to his two friends; who were all wearing looks of utter disbelief.

The voice continued on, casually beginning to state; "Ok, now that I'm...fully rested—I should open my eye. Yes, good idea, very good idea; I'll see if I'm on Earth yet." And, as pre-told, the optic lense on Cole's palm began to whizz open. As the lense began to disappear into the sides of itself, a blue optic began to shine in the opened space of the lense; as if it had been hiding behind the black plastic.

The optic appeared to move around, like an eye moving in a socket, and after a brief sentence of; "Ok, this looks..."

Then the optic found Cole's stunned eyes; both said eyes staring directly at the disc of sea blue light. They stared at each other, for what seemed like hours.

Then, as one, they began to yell at the top of their lungs... or sound processors.

_**GLaDOS, who had read this story at the speed of light, was still staring at the screen; her camera lense was blinking over and over again. After a couple more minutes of staring, GLaDOS changed to the camera in the next test's lift area; just as I entered from after beating my last test. **_

_**I was sweating like a pig as I sat down at my 'Aperture writing desk'; silently thanking that P-body had bad aim. I was just placing my portal gun on the desk, when the female said, "Interesting story, [Welshscot]."**_

_**After rubbing my ears, thinking that I had heard a complement from the software bitch, I asked, "What? Err...Thank you, GLaDOS?" **_

"_**Yes, it was very informative." She explained, her synthesized voice sounding slightly smug. "I now know where that missing ASHPD and the upper floor test equipment are and where to find it all." I did not like the sadistic sound of pleasure that was dripping from her un-bodied voice, or that her camera lense was half closed; giving it the impression of a woman eyes that read 'pay back is due'. **_

_**I was bewildered at first, till I glanced at my computer screen (which was connected with all the other computer screens in the centre and so had my story flashing across its screen). I re-read my story, gasped, and then turned to the camera. "What?! But this is just..." **_

_**She cut across me, her voice sounding oddly content and happy (for an AI at least), saying, "Test subject [Welshscot}, please continue with testing! I am about to visit the surface. There is a..." She paused for a second. "...Deer that needs my attention!" **_

"_**A deer?" I**_ _**asked; my voice disbelieving.**_

"_**Oh yes..." she replied; her camera was beginning to shut down and her voice became distant. "But it is a very special deer. It is an urban, bald deer. It has just been infected with a tumour...and both need cutting..."**_

_**Her voice faded away and the light in my room turned off; leaving me in semi-darkness. The only things that were bright in the gloom where my scared, wide eyes; and the flashing words of my screen saver: I DON'T OWN PORTAL...OR INFAMOUS **_


End file.
